Perceiving Divergence
by Shanghai's and Lullabies
Summary: Every kid in Death City undergoes basic textbook schooling until 16yrs, when they select the class they'd like to enter at the DWMA- miester or not- based on their aptitude. Your class reinforces how you learn, what sort of missions you go on & what city job's you're most suitable for. Although, some miesters are more special than others. But it's best they don't know that. Right?
1. Prologue:(The Test) Part 1 of 4

"Beatrice Prior." An Amity volunteer calls out, her eyes scanning the room.

I get up because I'm supposed to, but if it were up to me, I would stay in my seat for the rest of time. I feel like there is a bubble in my chest that expands more by the second, threatening to break me apart from the inside. When I get close to the exit, the woman who called out my name flashes me a huge smile that I suppose should've been reassuring. I try to return her smile out of politeness, but I'm pretty sure it came out like a grimace. I feel like I'm about to throw up.

Waiting outside of the cafeteria is a row of ten rooms. They are used only for aptitude tests, so I have never been inside one before. Until today. Unlike the other rooms in the school, they are separated, not by glass, but by mirrors. I watch myself , pale and terrified, walking towards one of the doors. "Room 6" it says in big, bold letters alongside the door. I take a deep breath and walk inside, where I find a mature Dauntless woman waiting for me.

Mirrors cover the inner walls of the room. I can see my reflection from all angles: the grey fabric obscuring the shape of my back, my long neck, my knobby-knuckled hands, red with a blood blush. The ceiling glows white with light. In the center of the room is a reclined chair, like a dentist's, with a machine next to it. It looks like a place where terrible things happen.

"Don't worry," the woman says "It doesn't hurt."

I wonder if she has to say that to everyone, but we are the only two people in the room. Was she genuinely trying to comfort me?

"Have a seat and get comfortable," she says "My name is Tori."

Clumsily I sit in the chair and recline, putting my head on the headrest. Out the corner of my eye I study Tori as she busies herself with the machine on my right. She is not as severe-looking as the young Dauntless I have seen at school or around the train stops. She wears a loose-fitting black blazer and jeans. Her hair is black and straight, but in the light I can see it's streaked with grey. When she tilts her head upwards to study a vial against the light, I catch a glimpse of a tattoo on the back of her neck—a black-and-white hawk with a red eye. Then she turns back to face me and I quickly avert my eyes, squinting up into the blinding light directly above me as she attaches an electrode to my forehead.

She hums as she works and I try to focus on her and not the wires in her hands.

"Why the hawk?" I blurt out as she presses another electrode to my forehead.

"Never met a curious Abnegation before," she says raising her eyebrows at me.

I shiver, and goose bumps appear on my arms. My curiosity is a mistake, a betrayal of Abnegation values. I look away and shrug, though I'm sure it looked more like a violent twitch.

She presses the next electrode to her own forehead and explains. "In some parts of the ancient world, the hawk symbolized the sun. Back when I got this, I figured if I always had the sun on me, I wouldn't be afraid of the dark."

I try to stop myself from asking another question, but I can't help it. "You're afraid of the dark?"

"I _was_ afraid of the dark," she corrects me, pressing another electrode to her forehead. She shrugs. "Now it reminds me of the fear I've overcome."

She stands behind me. I squeeze the armrests so tightly the redness pulls away from my knuckles. She tugs wires toward her, attaching them to me, to her, to the machine behind her. Then she passes me a vial of clear liquid.

"Drink this," she says.

"What is it?" My throat feels swollen. I swallow hard. "What's going to happen?"

"Can't tell you that." She says apologetically but a small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "Just trust me, okay? Like I said, It won't hurt."

I take a deep breath and then exhale, long and slow—dragging out the moment as much as I can—if only by seconds. Then I take the vial from her and tip its contents into my mouth. My eyes close.


	2. Prologue: Part 2 of 4

I open my eyes and I'm standing in the JuniorAcademy cafeteria. All the tables are empty and I can see through the windows that it's snowing. On the table in front of me are two baskets.

Behind me, a woman's voice says, "Choose."

I stare at my two options. One basket holds a pretty sizable hunk of cheese, and in the other is knife the size of my forearm. I know what I'm "supposed" to take really, the knife—if not to defend myself then to protect someone else—but I've never really held any weapon before. I bite my lip. "Why?" I ask

"Choose," she repeats.

I look over my shoulder but no one is there. I turn back to the baskets and consider my options. The cheese is just some cheese. The knife isn't even a demon weapon. "What will I do with them?"

"Choose!" she yells.

When she screams at me my fear disappears and stubbornness replaces it.

I scowl and cross my arms.

"Have it your way," she says

The baskets disappear. I hear a door squeak and turn to see who it is. I see not a "who" but a "what": A dog with a pointed nose stands a few yards away from me. It crouches low and creeps toward me, its lips peeling back from its white teeth. A growl gurgles from deep in its throat, and I see why having either the cheese or the knife would have come in handy. But it's too late now.

I think about running, but the dog will be faster than me. I can't wrestle it to the ground. My head pounds. I have to make a decision. The dog snarls, and I can almost feel the sound vibrating in the back of my skull.

My biology textbook said dogs can smell fear because of a chemical secreted by human glands in a state of duress, the same chemical a dog's prey secretes. Smelling fear leads them to attack.

The dog inches towards me, its nails scraping the floor. I can't run. I can't fight. Instead I breathe in the smell of the dog's foul breath and try not to think about what it just ate. There are no whites in his eyes, just a black gleam.

What else do I know about dogs? I shouldn't look it in the eye, that's a sign of aggression. I remember asking my father for a pet dog when I was young, and now, staring at the ground in front of the dog's paws, I can't imagine why. It comes closer, still growling. If staring into its eyes is a sign of aggression, what's a sign of submission? My heart pounds in my ears.

I raise my eyes to its chest, careful to avoid the dog's eyes. _Why?_ I think _What am I doing?_ I feel like I should be looking for something. But what am I looking for?

My breaths are loud but steady. I sink to my knees. The last thing I want to do is lie down on the ground in front of this dog—making its teeth level with my face—but it's the best option I have. I stretch my legs out behind me and lean on my elbows. The dog creeps closer, and closer, until I feel its hot breath on my face. My arms are shaking.

It barks in my ear and I clench my teeth to stop from screaming.

Something wet and rough touches my cheek. The dog's growling has stopped. When I lift my head to look at it again, it is panting.

It licked my face.

I frown and slowly pull my legs back under me, still eye level with the dog, to sit on my heels. The dog props its paws up on my knees and licks my chin. I cringe, wiping the drool from my skin, and let out a small, breathy laugh.

"You're not such a vicious beast after all, huh?"

I get up slowly so I don't startle it, but it seems like a different animal than the one that face me a few seconds ago. Blood is still pounding in my ears but I stretch my hand out anyways, carefully, so I can draw it back if I need to. The dog nudges my hand with its head. I am suddenly glad I didn't pick up the knife.

I close my eyes and rub my temples with my free hand. But then then I feel tense again. My eyes fly open and what I see is a little girl standing across the room wearing a white dress. She stretches out both hands and squeals "Puppy!"

Open my mouth to warn her, to tell her to stay back, but I am too late. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion. I see the girl running towards the dog, and in the same instant I see the dog turn from me and hone in on the girl—barking and snarling, it's muscles bunched up, about to pounce. I don't think, I just jump; I hurl my body on top of the dog, wrapping my arms around its thick neck.

My head hits the ground. The dog is gone, and so is the little girl. Instead I am alone—in the testing room, now empty. I turn in a slow circle but I can't see myself in any of the mirrors. I push the door open and walk into the hallway, only it's not a hallway. I'm now standing in a dark alleyway.

"You coming?" a voice calls out from the shadows.

I pull my bottom lip in between my teeth and turn to look back at the door but there's nothing there, just a weathered brick wall. A ways in front of me is a street lamp. There's a figure standing just outside the edge of the circle of light. I can make out the general shape of the body but I have no way of knowing who it is while they're in the shadows.

"Who are you?" I ask, silently congratulating myself that at least my voice wasn't shaking.

The figure steps closer into the light from a street lamp. It's a boy, probably around my age. It's not that he looks harmless but he doesn't look exactly menacing either. He's wearing some kind of jumpsuit that has a lot of black on it but an equal amount of yellow. The large band just above his forehead is light blue and his shoes are plain grey. It's impossible to tell what Class he is from.

"I'm your weapon." He says with a smirk.

Before I can question that statement a loud, terrifying scream pierces the night around us. He turns his head towards where the sound came from. And then looks back at me.

"She needs our help." He says with a serious expression, the smirk gone.

_She needs our help._ His words echo in my head and I blink with sudden clarity. I nod and release the hem of my shirt I hadn't realized I bunched up in my fists and start towards him.

He waits for me to catch up and then leads me down the dimly lit alley. I'm about to ask how much further when we turn the corner and I find myself standing at the top of a wide old stairway of about 15 or 20 steps and at the bottom is a man crouched over a woman whose body is slumped in a heap, her eyes are wide and frantic with fear.

Well, it wasn't exactly man that was hovering over her, not human anyways, not completely. His body was long, thin and pale like something tried to pull him apart, stretching him from each end and then stopped right before he split in two. And there was something else too, something inside him. Is that his heart? Why can I see his heart? I squinted my eyes and focused on his center and then I saw it. Something fiery red burning deep within him. I'm not sure but… it looks like… well I've never actually seen one before. But I know that is _not _a heart.

"That man… it's his… soul? It's…" I frown, not sure of exactly what I'm trying to say.

The boy raised an eyebrow at me but if I said something wrong, he didn't elaborate. "Yeah, there's no doubt about it. It's pure evil."

"Is that a Kishin?" I hear myself ask.

"No." He says still looking at me strangely. "He's not. But…"

"But he will be soon, right?" I swallow hard. There's still time to stop it. I can stop it before…

"Yeah," he says looking back at me "But wouldn't even stand a chance. We might need to get some help. Someone with more experience. You aren't enough."

Somewhere, a small part of me knows he's probably right—but another part is bothered by his words. I'm aware suddenly, that I'm still wearing my plain grey shirt and slacks. Just because everyone looks at me and sees a plain little Abnegation girl doesn't mean that's what I am. That doesn't mean that I'm useless or weak. Or that I'm nothing. Besides, this shouldn't even be about me. This is about the woman. She needs our help. "I do too have experience." I say firmly, narrowing my eyes.

The boy laughs at me "You're _lying._"

"I'm not." I say evenly. "You said you're my weapon right? So let's go."

"Didn't you hear me? This guy is way too much for someone who's never even held a demon weapon before!" He held his arm out and a second later it turned into a long sharp blade. His eyes bored into mine. "This is dangerous. I know you were lying about being experienced, I can see it in your eyes."

The woman let out another shriek even though the evil human's attention was now focused on us. On _me._ I pulled myself up straighter. "Well," I set my jaw. "I wasn't. Weapon form, _now_."

He gives me a strange look but then a wicked grin spreads across his face and he chuckles. "Okay."

There was a big light and suddenly there was a spinning scythe hovering in front of me. I reached my hand out and grabbed it, him, and without a second thought I charged the evil human. Everything goes black.

I wake to sweaty palms and a pang of nervous guilt in my chest and something else I can't quite put my finger on. I am lying in the chair in the mirrored room. When I tilt my head back I see Tori behind me. She pinches her lips together and removes the electrodes from our heads. I wait for her to say something about the test—that it's over, that I did well, although how could I have done poorly for a test like this?—but she says nothing. Just pulls the wires from my foreheads.

I sit forward and wipe my palms off on my slacks. I had to have done something wrong, even if it was only in my mind. Is that strange look on Tori's face because she doesn't know how to tell me I messed up? Or that I'm too stupid to even qualify for enrolling at the DWMA? The silence is killing me. A scream claws its way into my throat but I keep my lips firmly pressed together.

"That," she says finally "was perplexing. Excuse me, I'll be right back. Just stay where you are."


	3. Prologue: Part 3

Perplexing?

I bring my knees to my chest and bury my face in them after Tori leaves the room. I wish I felt like crying, because the tears might bring me a sense of release, but I don't. How can you fail a test you aren't allowed to prepare for?

As the moments pass I get more nervous. I have to wipe of my hands every few seconds as the sweat collects—or maybe I just do it because it helps me feel calmer. What if they tell me I'm not cut out for any class? What will I do then?

I shake my head. I can't think like this. I have to stay calm.

I wipe my hands again.

Finally the door opens and Tori walks back in. I stretch my legs back out and clasp my hands tightly together, to keep them still in my lap.

"Sorry about that." Tori says. She stands by my feet with her hands in her pockets. She looks tense, very different than the relaxed proctor who comforted me when I first walked in.

"Beatrice, your results were inconclusive." She says "Typically, each stage eliminates one or more of the Classes, but in your case only two have been ruled out."

I stare at her. "Two?" I ask. My throat is so tight it's hard to talk.

She takes her hands out her pockets and crosses her arms. "Picking the cheese would've led you into a different simulation that would've confirmed your aptitude for Amity and picking the knife would've indicated Dauntless. You picked neither so Amity was automatically ruled out. Dauntless remained a possibility only because you didn't run away from the dog or from the challenge. Your intelligent response to handing the dog on your own suggests a rather strong alignment with Erudite and of course, throwing yourself on the dog rather than let it attack the girl was a very Abnegation-oriented response." She frowns and shifts her weight from one foot to the other. "Your actions didn't even allow for Candor to be ruled out so I had to alter the simulation to put you in the city. And there, your insistence upon dishonestly ruled out Candor." She half smiles. "Don't worry about that. Only the Candor tell the truth in that one."

One of the knots in my chest loosens. Maybe I'm not an awful person.

"I suppose that's not entirely true. People who tell the truth are Candor… and the Abnegation," she says "Which gives us a problem."

My mouth falls open.

"On one hand, risking your life to save another, though typically Dauntless could also in this case been seen as somewhat Abnegation. And the only reason Dauntless wasn't ultimately ruled out was because of your actions towards the… um, monster. Attacking it rather than running away as well as believing in the boy suggests Dauntless but so does taking the knife, which you didn't do."

She clears her throat and continues "But it doesn't make sense. Assuming the knife was a demon weapon is what drives the test. Amity don't want to take the chance of having a battle crazed weapon when they could possibly talk their way out of it and Dauntless are eager to have their partner. Also..."

She trails off and just looks at me for a second. It felt like hours. "Can I ask you something? At the end, why were you so set on not leaving the woman?"

"Well," I croak and then clear my throat "Because…" I wring my left hand with my right. Why didn't I leave her? Leave her with the almost-kishin? Or at least that's what I thought it was. What else could it have been? "Because he was evil right? That man wasn't just a "monster", I thought that if I let him eat her soul he ran the risk of becoming a Kishin." My voice when up a little at the end making it sound like a question.

Tori just shook her head "But there was no way you could've_ known_ that. What made you think his… his soul was a kishin egg? Did you think the dog was too?"

"No! That's why I didn't kill it but—"

"You didn't have anything to kill it _with._" She reminded me.

Now it's my turn to shake my head. "So wait- do you, or don't you know what my aptitude is?"

She sighs and is quiet for a moment as she looks up and studies the light. "Yes and no. My conclusion," she explains, resuming eye contact with me, "Is that you display equal aptitude for Abnegation, Dauntless, and Erudite."

I just stare at her dumbfounded. I have no idea what to make of this.

"Beatrice,"

Tori says my name so quietly, even though I was directly staring at her, I briefly thought I'd imagined it. "Under no circumstances must you share this information with _anyone._"

I know this already. You're not supposed to talk about your Aptitude test at all. I open my mouth to say this but Tori shakes her head again with her eyes closed now and puts a finger to her lips. She opens her eyes and drops her finger, stepping closer to me. She sits on the edge of the chair by my feet. Her eyes are very serious as they bore into mine.

"People with these kind of results are called _Divergent_." She looks up at me. "This is a unique and very dangerous thing. I don't mean you can't tell anyone _now, _I mean you can't tell anyone _ever._"


	4. Prologue: Part 4

I hear the words coming out of her mouth but my brain refuses to process them, and I just shake my head, back and forth. _Perplexing. Divergent. Dangerous. _"I'm not." I say looking back at her "There must've been a mistake. How do you know. _How do you know?" _I'm aware of my voice rising slightly and realize Tori probably thinks I'm hysterical. Well too bad, that's how I feel. I'm not special or dangerous. I'm not divergent.

"Of all the things I've wanted to do in my life, sit here and lie to you has not, nor will it ever be, one of them I assure you. Denying what you can do won't make things easier for you. Now, all I can tell you from what I know -and I'm supposed to know nothing- not all Divergent share the same abilities, but the one you've displayed is quite common among them. You have the ability of Soul Perception. You need to be aware of it and you need to control it. Beatrice."

I keep my gaze focused on the ground for a moment, blinking away the burn of invisible tears. Tori waits until I look back up at her to continue.

"You could see it couldn't you? The Kishin egg. That's how you knew it was an evil human and how you can tell weapons apart without any prior exposure to demon weapons. You see souls. I'm sure you know that not every miester can do that! You are Divergent Beatrice. And the sooner you accept that, the better off you'll be. I've put your results in officially as Abnegation." She pauses to check her watch "I suggest that you go home. Okay?"

I don't know what to do. I nod once. "My brother…"

"I'll have someone let him know where you went." Tori stands up

I touch my forehead and stare at the floor as I walk out the room. I can't bear to look at Tori or even myself for that matter. It's my choice now, no matter what the test said. I gulp. Tomorrow the Choosing Ceremony will change everything. Abnegation, Dauntless, Erudite… Will I pick what I've always been or something completely new? I jump down the last step as I leave the campus, and begin walking down the long way's home.


	5. Chapter 1

I reach my street five minutes before I usually do, according to my watch- which is the only adornment Abnegation allows, and only because it's practical.

The houses on my street are all the same size and shape. They are made of grey cement with few windows, in economical, no-nonsense rectangles. To some the sight may be gloomy but to me their simplicity is comforting. The reason for simplicity isn't disdain for uniqueness, as some of the other Classes have interpreted it. Everything— from our houses to our plain non-fitted grey clothes to our hair, cut short or tied back unceremoniously in buns (similar to some Erudite, but not as precise)—is meant to help us to forget ourselves and protect us from greed or envy. This helps us not only in our day to day lives, but also in battle. When an Abnegation meister is in battle, they are not driven by jealousy or pride; they only wish to do their best and are more consistently focused on the mission given than any of the other Classes. It also helps that we don't generally promote self-destructive behaviour, although in school we learned that many Abnegation sacrificed their lives in the battle against the last Kishin, in order to protect the other ordinary humans as a last resort. I don't know all the details but when I asked my parents about it they stressed that it was only as a last resort and that it was done out of love.

The same goes for an Abnegation weapon. Candor weapons are prided on their levels of honesty. Never deceitful, their acknowledgement of their limitations have saved many lives in battle—albeit usually through a timely retreat. This is why they have a lot of problems with us and the Dauntless. A Dauntless weapon is more likely to engage in what can be seen as reckless behavior, always taking the risk rather than backing down. Not necessarily prone to lying about their health and condition but they will if they feel you might not be willing to take what they perceive as a necessary risk as well. And an Abnegation weapon will always rather lie about their condition rather than turn back if the mission at hand is deemed vital and holds other lives in the balance. How could they turn back just because they're a little beat up if they know that doing so other lives could be lost? It would be selfish.

Eventually my brother arrives. "Beatrice!" he calls out.

I lift myself up from our front step and dust my hands off from the pebble I had been idly playing with.

If I had gone in the house early, my father would've noticed when he checks the house log at the end of the day- and then I'd have to explain what happened. No thanks.

"What happened?" Caleb says as he gets closer. "Are you alright?"

My brother is not alone. He's with Susan and her brother, Robert, and Susan is giving me a strange look. Like I'm somehow different than the Beatrice she arrived at the Aptitude Tests with, just this morning.

"I'm fine." I say and try to smile convincingly. "When the test was over I felt a little sick—must've been that liquid they gave us. I feel much better now though. I'm sorry to have worried you."

I seem to have convinced Robert and Susan, as they now look relaxed and no longer look concerned for my mental health. Caleb, however, narrows his eyes ever so slightly in the way he does when he suspects someone of duplicity. Without any perceptible change in his voice from when he first walked up, he simply says "I'm glad you're feeling better now."

"Did you two take the bus home?" I ask, not because I particularly cared how Susan and Robert got home from school today, but because I needed to change the subject.

"Our father is working late," Susan says "When I saw your brother heading out on his own, Robert and I thought it best to accompany him. Our father told us we should spend some time thinking before the ceremony tomorrow anyways, and I've heard walking is a good way to focus your thoughts."

Robert raises an eyebrow at me. If we were in another Class I might've smirked or even laughed. I know walking home with Caleb was in no way his idea. But we were in Abnegation and laughing at someone else's discomfort was rude and selfish as well as going against his sister's apparently selfless reasons would have been. And anyways I'd likely only be distracting myself from her mention of the Ceremony tomorrow.

"You're welcome to come over later, if you'd like." Caleb says politely

I roll my eyes at Robert. My brother Caleb looked almost strange when we were little kids, with my father's dark hair and hooked nose, but now those features suit him. Now he just has that look where he's handsome without even trying, and if he wasn't Abnegation I'm sure the other girls at school would stare at him. Robert and I have been exchanging looks for the past year as Susan and Caleb flirt in the tentative way known only to the Abnegation.

Celeb has "Meister Potential", like I do. Basically everyone who's not a weapon- and not Expelled- graduates with Meister Potential. You don't actually earn the title of a meister until you pass initiation of your chosen Class. Susan was born a weapon. I don't know what exact weapon she is because as far as I know, she's never changed. She chooses not to. She was adopted actually, but you wouldn't know it just by looking at her family. Robert and Susan were raised together and are just as much brother and sister as and me and Caleb are. There's no doubt in my mind that at the ceremony tomorrow, she'll choose Abnegation and live a quiet, helpful life. And if Caleb wants, he doesn't ever have to train to be a meister. It's hard to picture either of them as a meister or a weapon. I can see him living the same type of life my father did, staying in Abnegation, learning a trade, marrying Susan and having a family. It'll be wonderful.

Only I might not be here to see it.

"Thank you." Susan says pulling me back to the conversation at hand. She smiles at Caleb and I, lingering on Caleb, before turning and heading back towards her home, Robert never leaving her side. Caleb's eyes follow Susan down the walk. I grab his arm, startling him from his daze, and pull him into the house.

Once the door is closed behind us and he turns to me. His dark straight eyebrows draw together so that a crease appears between them. When he frowns, he looks more like our mother than our father.

"Are you going to tell me the truth now?" he asks expectantly

"The truth is," I say, avoiding his eyes "I'm not supposed to discuss it. And you're not supposed to ask."

"All those rules you bend and you can't bend this one?" His eyebrows tug together and he bites the corner of his lip. His words are accusatory, but his tone makes it sound like he's probing for information—like he really wants my answer.

I shrug one arm. "Will you? What happened in _your _test Caleb?" Our eyes meet. I remember how distant and tense he looked when he came back from the testing rooms.

It's so quiet I can her the faint blow of a train horn, so far away I could almost mistake it for a strong blow of wind. I wonder if that's what the Dauntless listen for, if they love that sound. I see them in the mornings and sometimes after school, running onto and jumping off of still-moving trains. It looks... well, reckless of course.

"Just… don't tell our parents what happened, okay?" I say

His eyes stay on mine for a few seconds, and then he nods.

I want to go upstairs and lie down, everything about today has exhausted me. But my brother made breakfast this morning, and my mother prepared our lunches, and my father made dinner last night, so it's my turn to cook. I breathe deeply and walk into the kitchen to start cooking.

A minute later Caleb joins me. I grit my teeth. He helps with everything. It's what irritates me the most about him. Everything he is just another reminder of everything I'm not. Sixteen years of reminding myself to be selfless, non-judgmental, of trying to be good. And I am good, I am. I'm just... I don't know, I feel like I fall short sometimes.

By the time my parents get home, dinner is ready and the table is set. My father drops his bag at the door and kisses my head. My father works in the government, both my parents do. But he is an elected member of the School Board. The Board has little to do with the DWMA, Lord Death himself handles all of that. Their first and biggest job is to rule the city itself, but they also instruct our class as a whole. The School Board is made up entirely of Abnegation leaders due to our commitment to selflessness, essentially rendering the Board incorruptible. Still, other people see my father as an opinionated man—too opinionated maybe—but he's also loving. I try to see only the good in him.

"How did the test go?" he asks me.

"Fine," I say pouring the peas into a serving bowl. The test was right about one thing- I couldn't be Candor. I lie too easily.

My mother comes in shortly after my Father and warmly greets all of us.

Eventually we all sit down and begin serving ourselves, passing each dish to the left. We say grace and begin eating.

"So," my mother says. Reaching, not for her fork, but my fathers hand. "Tell me."

I stare at their joined hands as she makes small circles on his knuckles with her thumb. My parent's love each other, but they rarely show affection like this in front of us. They taught us that physical contact is powerful, so I have been wary of it since I was young.

"Tell me what's bothering you." she adds.

I stare at my plate. My mother's acute senses often surprise me, but now they chide me. How could I have been so focused on myself that I didn't notice his deep frown and his sagging posture?

"I had a difficult day at work." he says "Well, really, the whole board- especially Marcus- had a difficult day. I shouldn't lay claim to it."

Each of the 50 members of the School Board were selected by their peers for their impeccable character. Marcus is my father's co-worker, and while each member is equal- and the Board technically makes decisions together- Marcus also happens to be a Death Scythe, making him particularly influential.

"Is this about that report Azusa Yumi released?"

Azusa Yumi, the new Erudite Principal, has been causing a lot of unrest for the School Board.

During meetings, representatives from other Classes may speak but ultimately the School Board has final say on any decisions made. The only other Classes to have a Principal are Candor and the Dauntless but even they have additional representatives, Vice-Principals. I don't remember how they are chosen. But I do know Azusa is Erudite's sole representative, selected as Principal only based on her IQ score. My father complains about her often.

I look up. "A report?"

Caleb gives me a warning look. We aren't supposed to speak at the dinner table unless our parents ask us a direct question, and they usually don't. Not just our parents but most. Our listening ears are a gift to them, my father says. They give us their listening ears after dinner, in the family room.

"Yes," my father says. His eyes narrow. "Those arrogant, self-righteous-" He stops and clears his throat. "Sorry. But she released a report attacking Marcus's character."

I raise my eyebrows. "What did it say?" I ask

"Beatrice," Caleb says quietly

I duck my head, turning my fork over and over until the warmth leaves my cheeks. I don't like to be chastised, especially by my brother.

"It said," my father explains, "that Marcus's violence and cruelty towards his son is the reason his son chose Dauntless instead of Abnegation."

Few people who are raised in Abnegation choose to leave it. When they do, we remember. Two years ago, Marcus's son, Tobias, left us for the Dauntless, and Marcus was devastated. Tobias was his only child- and his only family, since a long time ago his wife died giving birth to their second child. She had been his Meister too. My family attended the funeral- well, _funerals-_ because the infant also died minutes later. They'd more or less retired, from fighting at least, after Tobias was born. I never really met him, he rarely attended community events and never joined his father at our house for dinner. My father often remarked that it was strange, but now it doesn't matter.

"Cruel? Marcus?" My mother shakes her head. "That poor man. As if he needs to be reminded of his loss."

"Of his son's betrayal, you mean?" my father says coldly. "I shouldn't be surprised at this point. The Erudite have been attacking us with spiteful reports for months. And this isn't the end. There will be more, I guarantee it."

Before I can think to stop myself, I blurt out, "Why are they doing this?"

Why am I doing this would be a more appropriate question.

"Why don't you take this opportunity to listen to your father, Beatrice?" my mother says gently. It is phrased like a suggestion, not a command. I look across the table at Caleb, who has that look of disapproval in his eyes.

Well, back to my peas. It's silent for a moment. I'm not sure I can live this life of obligation any longer. I'm just not good enough.

"You know why," my father says matter-of-factly. "Because we have something they want. Valuing knowledge above all else results in a lust for power, and that leads men into dark and empty places. We should be thankful that we know better."

I nod. I know I will not choose Erudite even though my test results suggested that I could. I am my father's daughter.

My parents clean up after dinner. They don't even let Caleb help them, because we're supposed to keep to ourselves tonight instead of gathering in the family room, so we can think about our results.

My family might be able to help me choose, if I could talk about my results but I can't. And anyways Tori's warning echo's in my head every time my resolve to keep my mouth shut falters.

My brother and I walk up the stairs silently to our rooms. We get to the top and I head for my room. I pause with my hand on the door handle, not opening it right away. a thought goes through my mind about how this could be the last time we really talk before the ceremony. Before everything changes. Or stays the same. I don't know. Which is a stupid thought because I mean, we talk but when have we ever really _talked_.

So I'm surprised when I realize Caleb is still in the hallway too.

"Beatrice?"

"Yeah?" I say spinning around to face him. His door is about a third of the way open, his hand still on the door handle. I glance in and see his unmade bed and a stack of books on his desk.

"Just... about the ceremony tomorrow?" he asks "I just wanted to say, We do have to think of our family you know, but more importantly I think, we also have to think of ourselves."

For a moment all I can do is just stare at him. I have never seen him think of himself, never heard him insist on anything except selflessness.

"Um, Yeah I guess." I say reaching to rub my left arm with my right. I'm not sure what I am supposed to say to that. "It's a lot to think about, but we have this time at least, to think I mean." I say nodding my head to his room.

He lets out a quick, quiet laugh. "Not really a lot of time they gave us huh?"

His laugh throws me a bit but, I find my self suppressing a small smile of my own. Still, the words that come out of my mouth surprise me even more "Maybe this is just a tradition, and really everyone already knows what they're going to pick- or they're supposed to."

Caleb considers this for a moment. "You think we might be over thinking it?"

I giggle when he puts it like that. For me yes, but what was there for him to over think?

He smiles back at me, "That's an interesting thought." He says and then "Goodnight, Beatrice."

"Goodnight, Caleb."

I walk into my room and when I close the door behind me I realize that finding a solution to my problem might actually be simple. It will either require a great act of selflessness to choose Abnegation or a great act of courage to choose Dauntless, and maybe choosing one over the other will show that I belong.

It wasn't much what we said, but still, I decide I liked my quick conversation with Caleb. The last thing I think before I finally drift of is how I wish I could talk with my brother more often, and how I want to instead of how I'm supposed to.


	6. Chapter 2

"Welcome!" Lord Death thunders and everyone immediately quiets down

"Welcome All, to the Choosing Ceremony! This is the day in which we honor the philosophy of your ancestors, who told us not everyone sees the world around them in exactly same way. In order for this school to flourish there must be equal emphasis on what is taught as well as _how_ it's taught. Our dependents are now sixteen and as they stand on the precipice of adulthood, it is now up to them to decide what they will choose as building blocks for their own learning and ultimately how they will make their way throughout the world around them."

I squeeze Caleb's hand as hard as he squeezes mine.

"Decades ago most of the students that attended the DWMA dutifully embraced their missions and went out into the world, collecting Evil Souls to keep the world at peace- defending all from evils which would otherwise plunge the world into chaos. However," "Some of the former students took it upon themselves to rob the souls of innocents, which as we know leads to the creation of the demons known as Kishin who, when active, threaten to drag humanity into the depths of fear and madness." He paused as the silence emphasized his words. I shudder as I picture what that must've been like.

"Your ancestors and I decided that it wasn't any particular hatred that spawned the rebellions, but rather a miscommunication in the teachings of these student's which sadly, led to misinterpretation."

I gulp. What if I misinterpret it too? What if none of the teachings are right for me? I should just stay with my parents, where I know I'll be safe. Haven't I already accepted that no weapon would ever want me for a meister anyways?

"Those who felt the curriculum focused too much on aggression designed Amity."

The Amity exchanged smiles. Mostly average humans, with a handful of pacifist meisters and a few retired weapons, the Amity take care of a majority of the non-combat jobs. They are our doctors, writers, musicians, chefs and about a third of the government. They dress comfortably in red or yellow. Every time I see them they seem kind, loving, free. For a moment I picture myself, smiling in fitted yellow pants and a bright red top- holding hands with a good-looking Amity boy in an outfit matching mine. Or learning to bake the extravagant deserts that Abnegation never eat, while listening to him play beautiful music with one of their stringed instruments.

Then I shake my head and wipe the sweat from my free hand on my pants. Joining them had never been an option for me.

"Those who attributed failure to ignorance formed the Erudite."

I looked at the Erudite families, dressed in various shades of blue, staring strait at Lord Death with unwavering, respectful gazes. Ruling out Erudite was the only part of my choice that was easy.

"Those who blamed duplicity, in any capacity, formed Candor."

Well, I have never liked Candor.

"Those who blamed selfishness formed Abnegation."

I blame selfishness; I do.

"And those who blamed cowardice became the Dauntless."

But I am not selfless enough. Sixteen years of trying and I am not enough.

My legs go numb, like all the life has gone out of them, and I wonder how I will walk when my name is called.

"Working together, these five Classes have more than fulfilled their original purposes, contributing to our smooth-running society from within and beyond the DWMA. Abnegation has fulfilled our need for selfless leaders in government and on the battlefield; Candor has provided us with trustworthy and sound upholders of the law along with some of the strongest Weapon-Meister bonds I've seen to this date; Dauntless has given us undying protection and fearless protectors; Erudite has supplied us with intelligent strategists, educators, and researchers; Amity had given us understanding counselors, healers, and deeelicious food! Or uh- so I'm told." This gets a light round of chuckles from people from all of the classes, even some Erudite children smile.

"Oi! Nothing on our cake though!" a Dauntless man shouts from the back. This sets off a round of cheers from their section.

"Alright, Alright, settle down now!" Lord Death says and the former decorum returns to all in attendance.

"This day is a happy occasion— the day on which we receive our new student-initiates, who will work towards an even better society and a safer world. And so without further ado, I think it's time for our children to choose!"

A round of applause. It sounds muffled. I try to stand completely still, because if my knees are locked and my body is stiff, I don't shake. Names are now being read but I can't tell one syllable from the other. One by one, each sixteen year old steps out of line and walks to where the Class bowls are arranged in a circle.

Marcus, one of Lord Death's personal weapons stands on stage. He doesn't smile much, but then again I guess he doesn't have much to smile about these days. I gulp and try to resume my focus on standing still.

A girl from Amity steps out accepts the knife from Marcus. She cuts her palm and steps over to the bowls. I watch her blood droplets fall on the Amity soil and she returns to stand by her Class, alone.

New names are called and new choices being made. The room is constantly moving with a new person, a new knife and a new choice. I recognize most of them though, I doubt any of them know me.

"James Tucker." Marcus says

James Tucker, raised in Dauntless stumbles his way over to the bowls. His face is red as he quickly makes his way to the center of the room. His eyes dart from the Dauntless bowl to the Candor bowl and back again. I see him take a deep breath and then he takes the knife. He drags it across his palm with a jerk and then holds his arm out to the side, over the bowl of his choice. I watch his blood, dripping rapidly onto the glass- for Candor- and then it is done. He is the first of this year's bunch to switch Classes, the first Class transfer. A mutter rises from the Dauntless section as she shuffles his way over to the Candor section to stand with the other Candor initiates. I just keep my head down, like there a weight on the back of it pushing, and it could snap my neck at any moment.

They will see him as inadequate from now on, a failure, and so will members of Candor for that matter—Unless he can prove that he belongs with them, unless he can prove that by choosing another Class than his own he was not acting out of boredom, mere curiosity, or some other misguided reason, he needs to convince them that it was chosen out of necessity deep with in him. That everything he ever was or will be came from all the makings of any other Candor-born initiate and that he was never really meant to Dauntless. That his being born there was no more than an unfortunate mistake._ "Of his son's betrayal you mean?" _My father's voice echoes around in my head

His family will have the option of visiting him, a week from now on Visiting Day, but why would they? He left them. His absence will haunt their hallways and he will be a temporary space they can't seem to fill, but they will. Like when an organ is removed and the body's fluids move in to take its place. Humans can't tolerate emptiness for very long.

"Caleb Prior." Says Marcus.

Caleb squeezes my hand one last time, and as he walks away, casts a long look at me over his shoulder. I watch his feet move to the center of the room and his hands, as they accept the knife from Marcus, are steady as one deftly presses the blade into the other. He stands there for a moment with the blood pooling in his palm, and his lip snags on his teeth. I wait for him to walk over to the Abnegation bowl filled with grey stones, but he doesn't move. In slow-motion, I watch his arm shoot out over the bowl closest to him- the one filled with water.

The bowl for Erudite.

I hear mutters that lift into outraged cries. I can barley think strait. My brother, my selfless brother, a class transfer? My brother, born for Abnegation, _Erudite?_

When I close my eyes I see the stack of books on his desk, the way his eyes light up whenever he asked me a question, and his shaking hands sliding down his pants leg right after his aptitude test. Why didn't I realize that when he told me to think of myself yesterday he was also giving that advice to himself? Oh my great god, and did I encourage him?

I watch the Abnegation, normally so placid, speak to one another in tense whispers and glare across the room at the class that has become our enemy. The Erudite wear smug smiles and nudge each other, stealing a glance now and then at our own simmering class.

"Excuse me," Marcus says, but the crowd doesn't hear him.

"Quiet, please!" Lord Death raises his voice and the room goes silent. Except for a ringing sound.

I hear my name and a shudder propels me forward. Halfway to the bowls, I am sure I will choose Abnegation. I can see it so clearly- I watch myself grow in to a woman draped in Abnegation robes , marrying Susan's brother, Robert, and volunteering on weekends. I feel the underrated peace of routine, the quiet nights spent in front of the fireplace, the certainty that I will be safe, and if not good enough, at least better than I am now.

The ringing, I realize, is in my head- buzzing in no ones ears but my own.

I look at Caleb, who now stands behind the other Erudite initiates. The Erudite-_born _initiates . He stares back at me, his face pinched in discomfort but his eyes set with determination. He nods at me, like he knows what I'm thinking and agrees. My footsteps falter. If Caleb wasn't fit for Abnegation, how can I be?

But I'm the only one who remains. What choice do I have, now that he left us? He's left me no other option.

I set my jaw and try to mirror his internal determination. I will be the child that stays; I have to do this for my parents. I just have to.

Marcus offers me the knife, the blade wiped clean of all the blood before it. Unclouded by all prior choices. But is it clear of all Prior choices?

To my left is both the bowl of lit coals, for dauntless, and the bowl of grey stones, for Abnegation. I grit my teeth after accepting the knife and drag the blade across my palm. It stings, but I barley notice. I hold both hands to my chest, and my next breath shudders on the way out.

I open my eyes and thrust my arm out. For a second my blood drips on to the floor between the two bowls. Then, with a gasp I can't contain, I shift my hand forward, and my blood sizzles on the coals.

I am selfish. I am brave.

~~~[I'm sincerely sorry if you don't know what happens now, but I'm tired and since nothing for the next few pages of Divergent I would have happen any differently other than being in Death City, I'd essentially be rewriting a lot word for word. Trust me, I really don't like doing that I've read this book twice already it's as boring for me to type as it may or may not be for you to read. If you don't really have a thorough reading of the book then I will sum it up. A couple more kids go then the ceremony ends. Beatrice takes a last look at her parents, Mom is happy, Dad is not. All the Dauntless kids, old and new, head over to Dauntless headquarters- this journey includes running down stairs, running and jumping on and off of a moving train. Jumping on to a roof. Some of the transfer kids give up, thus failing initiation, and resign themselves to being Dropouts. One kid shouts that he'd rather be a dropout than dead. Beatrice disagrees, shed rather be dead than "_quote_", "empty, like the dropouts." At one point she almost trips or slips and falls but is helped by a tall, pretty, dark-skinned Candor girl. Name: Christina. They chat a little. Well mostly Christina is the talker, and they jump onto a roof together. They make it safely, but not everyone is as fortunate- one Dauntless girl falls like 120 feet and dies. Our heroine learns a valuable lesson just then (legitimate quote):

_ "That is how things work here. _We do dangerous things and people die. People die, and we move on to the next dangerous thing. The sooner that lesson sinks in, the better chance I have a surviving initiation. I refuse to think of the alternative."

*sigh* Okay here we go, back to it. ]~~~~

I tell myself I will count to three, and when I'm done, I will move on. I will not cry in front of these people. _One. _I picture the girl's body on the pavement, and a shudder goes through me. _Two. _I hear the blubbing from the living girl behind me and the murmured reassurances of the boy trying to console her. _Three. _

My lip's pursed, I walk away from the roofs edge.


	7. Chapter 3

Now that the adrenaline from the final jump- one I was fortunate enough to make it to, and survive- is wearing off my elbow stings. I pull my sleeve up to examine it, instantly relieved that there's no blood- at least not the quick kind. Some of the skin is peeling off and underneath is a raw, fresh pink that burns, like, a lot.

"Ooh. _Scandalous!_ A Stiff's flashing some skin!"

I lift my head. "Stiff" is slang for Abnegation and well, I'm the only one here. A couple feet away from me a thin mousy haired Candor boy in grinning wickedly. Some laughter springs up and in response my cheeks heat up significantly more than my surface wound. I let my sleeve fall down, ticking the shredded skin.

"Listen up! My name is Max! I am one of the leaders of your new Class!" shouts a man at the other end of the roof. He is older than the others, with deep creases in his dark skin and grey hair at his temples, and he stands on the ledge like it's a sidewalk. Like someone didn't just fall to her death from it.

"Several stories below is the members' entrance to our compound. If you can't muster up the will to jump off, you don't belong here. Our initates have the privilege of going first." his voice is clear, level and his face is relaxed. He looks at us with his arms crossed stepping back politely as if to give us to floor. Only his eyes are playful, mischievous.

"You want us to jump off a _ledge_?" asks an Erudite girl. She is a few inches taller than I am, with limp blonde hair jus touching her shoulders and a wide nose. Her mouth hangs open.

I'm a little surprised by the urge to roll my eyes, but I don't know why this shocks her.

"Yes," Max says looking more amused now.

"Is there water at the bottom or something?"

" Who knows?" he raises an eyebrow.

The crowd in front of the initiates spilt in half, making a path for us. I look around. No one looks to eager to jump off a building, even the dauntless-born initiates. Their eyes are everywhere but on Max. Some of them nurse minor wounds or brush gravel off themselves and straighten out their clothes.

I glance at the Candor boy from earlier. He is picking at one of his cuticles, trying to act casual.

"Curb your pride Beatrice," a memory pops into my head of my father from when I was probably 10 or 11. "That will get you in to trouble someday." I don't remember what I had done but he wasn't wrong. I am proud. And I don't doubt the impending trouble that will bring but right now, it makes me brave.

Nope, on second thought that bravery claim may be a lie but a headache is nudging it's way into my skull and I don't intend to wait around up here forever. It's not like I can go back. I start towards the ledge and hear snickers behind me. I don't look down until I am standing on the very edge and my pride is the only thing keeping me from turning back. Looking down, there's an obvious hole in the concrete- wide but still small enough to make me wonder how far the wind could potentially push me off course.

I can't see what's at the bottom but that's okay. This is just a scare tactic. _I will land safely at the bottom. _I tell myself. A light gust of wind hits me right then, rustling my button up shirt as if testing my resolve. It goes right through to my core, making my teeth chatter. For a brief moment I am hyper aware of all the people behind me, boring holes into my back with their doubtful stares- weaving chains all around me with their amused shock and bets that I'll fail.

My fingers fumble for the buttons that secure my collared shirt as I undo them one by one. Beneath it, I'm wearing a rather fitted, plain grey t-shirt. It's tighter than any other clothes I own and no one, not even my mother has seen me in it before. But I don't think about this as I shrug off my outer shirt and ball it up.

Carefully, but without so much as a glance downward I turn, and throw the ball of fabric at the former-Candor boy as hard as I can. It hits him in the chest. He just stares at me but I turn back before I can read anything in them. Catcalls rise up behind me but I tune them out as a look down at the hole again.

"_It's now or never." _I tell myself.

My stomach lurches, but I don't think. I just bend my knees, and jump.


	8. Chapter 4

The sudden silence is not nearly as jarring as the sudden impact. I wheeze, struggling to breathe again, and instinctively push my hands down in order to lift myself up. Except my left fingers kind of graze something hard and my pinky almost snaps backwards as my palm plummets into nothing and my right hand just goes straight into the darkness hitting nothing, making me tilt to that side and my landing sway. Okay, so a net.

The hole that I fell through seems a whole house above me and as a result the sunlight only illuminates the air above me. A half-relieved, half-hysterical laugh bubbles up and I cover my face with my hands. I just jumped off a roof. Slowly but surely my heart rate is returning to normal, and even though all I want to do is lay here covering my face for the next hour or so, contemplating my life choices, I know that sooner or later someone else will likely be coming down after me, and if I don't move, on top of me. Now that I know what to grasp for I sit up a little bit and peer into the darkness around me unsure of what to do next. All I want to do is stand on solid ground again.

That's when I realize that it's not actually pitch black down here. As my eyes begin to adjust I can make out a couple of dim lighting fixtures dotting the ceiling and a few hands reaching out to me from what I assume is the end of the net.

Ignoring my sore and tired limbs I stretch my arm and grab the closest hand to me and pull myself across, although I have a small feeling that whoever's hand this was did most of the pulling. I rolled off and would've fallen face-first into a wood floor had he not caught me.

"He" being the young man attached to the hand I grabbed. The one who's heartbeat I'd swear I can hear, though it's probably just some weird echo of my own. My head _was_ pretty shaken up during that fall. He has a spare upper lip and a full lower lip. His eyes are so deep-set that his eyelashes touch the skin under his eyebrows, and they are a dark blue, a dreaming, sleeping, waiting color.

His hands grip my arms, but he releases me a moment after I stand upright again. As soon as his hands abandon me the beating echo goes away.

"Thank you," I say my voice calm despite my near breathlessness.

We stand on a platform ten feet above the ground. Around us is an open cavern.

"Can't believe it," a voice says from behind him. It belongs to a dark-haired girl with three glinting rings through her right eyebrow. She smirks at me. "A Stiff, the first to jump? Unheard of."

"There's a reason why she left them, Lauren," he says. His voice is deep and resounding in this underground hole. "What's your name?" he asks turning to me.

It takes me a second to understand that he's talking to me. And then a few more to decide on an appropriate response. It's not that I've had any deep seated desires to go by a different name, or even any problems whatsoever with 'Beatrice'. It's just- I don't know, the Beatrice that my parents would wish a good day at school, or scold for sarcasm, or politely ask a favor from seemed starkly out of place down here, in this cavern, breathless and exposed (at least by Abnegation standards).

"Think about it," the daunting Dauntless boy says, a faint smile curling his lips. "You don't get to pick again."

Well, might as well pick something I won't have to constantly remind myself to respond to. Oh and 'Bea' is totally out of the question.

"Tris." I say firmly.

"Tris." Lauren repeats, grinning. "Make the announcement, Four."

The boy- Four- looks over his shoulder towards a tunnel or something that I'm just now becoming aware of and even so, barley able to make out, and shouts, "First jumper- Tris!"

A crowd materializes from the darkness, cheering and fist pumping, and then another person drops into the net. Her screams follow her down. Christina. Everyone laughs, but they follow their laughter with more cheering.

Four sets his hand on my back and I'm so started by the phantom beating I feel just as strongly as before, that I almost miss it when he says, "Welcome to Dauntless."


End file.
